


Dusk

by Macx



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-23
Updated: 2011-05-23
Packaged: 2017-10-19 17:43:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/203489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macx/pseuds/Macx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>episode tag to Dawn</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dusk

 He had been there.  
On the bridge. Waiting. Hoping. Even praying. Terrified.  
He'd never confess to that, though.  
He had been there.  
On the bridge. When the signal had come in. The garbled words. Signs of life.  
Hope. More terror. Desperation. All warring inside him.  
He had been there.  
In the shuttle bay. Waiting for the alien shuttle. Still praying. Not yet ready to believe.  
He had believed when the shuttle doors had opened and Trip Tucker had appeared, battered, beaten, bruised... alive. So very much alive and on his own two feet.  
For a whole ten seconds.  
Then dehydration, exhaustion and pain had taken their toll.  
He had been there. In sickbay. Claiming he was keeping an eye on their alien visitor, who was also treated by Phlox, but his whole attention had been riveted to the blond chief engineer.  
Now he was here. In Trip's quarters, gazing at the other man as he slept.  
Malcolm sighed and combed back a few stray, blond locks from the sunburned forehead. Trip's face still looked like a punching bag. His lip had been split, the corner of one mouth bruised. One cheek had taken a beating, and there were numerous discolorations all down his chest and sides. They were just now developing their full color and were blatant evidence to the force of the blows administered to the human body.  
Phlox had told Tucker to take it easy, to give his body the chance to recover from the stress. He was on sick leave for the next three day. Trip hadn't protested much, a clear sign of how much he hurt. He had even let Phlox smooth the special sunburn lotion over his mistreated skin. It smelled faintly of fruits, but it wasn’t too bad.  
Malcolm himself had reined in his response to his lover's danger and now safety. He hadn't hugged or kissed him, just assisted him to his quarters and into bed. Anything more than a chaste kiss to the forehead had been too painful. Now Trip slept, aided by the pain medication, and Malcolm would see to it that he recovered.  
No fooling around. They would have time for this later, when Trip was free of the pain.  
His lover moved sleepily, leaning into the caress unconsciously, and Malcolm smiled. Trip was stripped down to his underwear, Malcolm himself in his sweat pants and shirt. He had every intention to spend the night with his lover, sitting with him, taking care of him.  
"Mal?"  
And waking him up, Reed sighed.  
Sleepy blue eyes blinked at him.  
"Go back to sleep, Trip. I'm here," he whispered.  
"Stayin'?"  
"Yes."  
"Good."  
Heavy eyelids slid shut again and Trip tried to huddle closer, as much as his battered form let him without inflicting more pain. Malcolm adjusted his position and continued to caress the tousled hair.  
"Love ya," came the soft whisper, startling Malcolm who had thought his lover to be asleep again.  
"I love you, too," he replied. "Now sleep."  
"Hmpf."  
For a long time, Malcolm waited, then he was convinced that Trip was finally resting again. He allowed himself another smile, then closed his eyes and followed him into sleep.

* * *

Trip regarded himself critically in the mirror. His face still looked like a fried punchign ball. He grimaced, then winced as facial muscles protested the move. Most of the swelling had gone down, thanks to Phlox, but the bruises were still there, and they were painful. Prodding at the bruised corner of his mouth, he sighed. Damn.  
"Don't," a British-accented voice told him and strong fingers curled around his wrist, pulling the hand away.  
Trip turned to his lover using the grasp Malcolm had on him to pull him closer. "Doesn't really hurt. Just bothers me."  
Malcolm shot him a quizzical look. "Right," he said slowly, disbelief strongly in his voice. "It does hurt. Don't tell me lies, Trip. You took quite a beating."  
"Had worse."  
Malcolm's fingers ghosted over the discolorations. Clear, gray eyes took in every injury and there was a shadow passing over the handsome features Trip didn't like. He wrapped his arms around the other man, pulling the slender figure even closer.  
"Don't," he whispered, kissing the furrowed brow.  
"You keep ending up in sickbay a lot lately," Reed murmured. "Always on the wrong side of a fist."  
Trip sighed again. "It's not like I'm lookin' for trouble."  
"Trouble just finds you."  
"Exactly."  
Malcolm looked doubtful.  
"Hey, I'm not as bad as you, Mal."  
"Me?"  
"Yeah. You keep ending up on the wrong side of a bullet or phaser or even a mine..."  
Malcolm scowled.  
"Don't give me that look."  
"It's not the same," Reed argued.  
"Yeah, well, you prefer projectiles and phasers. I get the hands-on variety. Then again Zho'Kaan shot me, too." Trip grinned.  
Malcolm's scowl deepened. "It's not the same," he repeated.  
"'Cause you think it's in your job description to get hurt?"  
"No!"  
"Then what?" Trip demanded.  
Malcolm hesitated, then the tension that had slowly crept into his frame flowed out again. He sagged into the muscular arms still around him.  
"I hate to have it happen to you, Trip. That's all."  
"And you think I'm jumpin' with joy when you get bruised and shot at? Think again!"  
Trip took the suddenly anguished face between his hands and planted a kiss on the thin lips.  
"I love you, Malcolm Reed. I know you're responsible for security and weapons, that you love your job, that you are prone to get hurt. I don't have to like it and I never did. But I accepted it. This time, it was me. I was aboard that shuttle, it was me who was stuck on that hellhole without a UT. Nothin' you could do about it. Nothin’ you can do now."  
Malcolm drew a shaky breath. "I know you're right. I don't have to like it, though. You're not supposed to end up crash-landed on an alien moon, Trip."  
"Neither are you supposed to be pinned to the hull by a Romulan mine," Trip reminded him.  
He placed a finger on Malcolm's lips to stop his protest.  
"You aren't," he repeated.  
Reed pursed his lips and kissed the long fingers. Trip smiled and pulled the hand away, leaning forward to claim a real kiss, bruises be damned. Malcolm responded readily, hands brushing over his shirt-clad back.  
"I love you, too," the armory officer whispered when they parted. "I never knew how hard it was to see the one you love hurt until... well... you."  
"I take that as a compliment."  
"It is, Trip. It is."  
Trip caught another kiss, deepening it, ignoring the twinge from his lips. Malcolm didn't. He pulled back, frowning.  
"You're hurting."  
"I'm fine."  
"That's my line."  
"I'm borrowing it for today."  
"Hm.... I might charge a fee for it."  
Trip tousled the dark head, evoking an exclamation of protest. Malcolm muttered something dark, glowering at his lover, and smoothed his hair.  
"You'll pay for this," he vowed.  
"Uh-huh, I'm scared."  
"You better be. I know ten different ways to make your daily life hell."  
"Only ten?" Trip teased.  
There was an evil glint in Reed's eyes as he leaned forward, whispering in Trip's ear, "No sex for a month."  
"You wouldn't dare."  
"Watch me."  
Trip drew a teasing finger down his lover's chest, watching the gray eyes darken slightly. "Really? You'd let us run dry?" he whispered huskily. "No touchin', no nothin'...."  
The Adam's apple bopped slightly, but otherwise Malcolm remained firm. "Yes," he answered, voice level.  
"Nothin' at all?" Trip repeated, voice barely about a whisper. An erotic whisper, lips against one ear, evoking goosebumps.  
"I can control myself."  
"Uh-huh."  
A nibble at the closest earlobe resulted in a shiver.  
"Want you," Trip murmured.  
"When you're healed."  
"I'm fine."  
"There's that word again."  
"Learned from the best."  
Gray eyes twinkled. "Yes, I am good, aren't I?"  
Trip laughed. "The best."  
He pulled Malcolm toward the bunk, but Reed resisted.  
"Please?" the blond begged. "Just cuddlin', okay? I just wanna have you close, Mal."  
Malcolm regarded him critically, then nodded. "Okay. I can live with cuddling."  
The answer was a wide smile. Trip sank down onto his bed, Malcolm with him, and claimed a gentle kiss. His lover didn't fight it much. A careful arm wrapped around him, but there was barely any pain. Just receding bruises.  
Trip finally snuggled against the slender, hard body, sighing with pleasure. He could wait a few more days, he knew. Gladly. It would be all the better then. Strong hands caressed him, carded through his hair, and he closed his eyes, enjoying the attention.  
"It's movie night tonight," Malcolm reminded him after a while.  
"Can watch it from here."  
"I'd prefer that."  
Trip twisted around slightly, trying not to dislodge himself from his lover too much, and used the buttons next to his bed to switch on the screen. It was another classic and both men watched it from their very comfortable position.  
“Somethin’s missin’,” Trip murmured lazily after a while.  
“Hm?”  
“Popcorn. Can’t have a movie without popcorn.”  
“Yes. You’re right,” Malcolm agreed.  
Neither man made any moves to get up.  
“You go get it,” Trip finally decided.  
“Me? How come?”  
“I’m injured and ailing.”  
A snort of laughter.  
“And I’m sufferin’ from terrible sunburn.”  
“Uh-huh.”  
“I’m sick, Mal. I need some gentle nursin’.”  
“With popcorn?”  
“Best thing in the world.”  
“Popcorn...”  
Trip grinned. “Yeah. Old home remedy.”  
Malcolm chuckled. “So you want me to move... get up from here... this bed... and get you... popped corn?”  
Trip frowned lightly, apparently pondering this. “Hm... you gettin’ up... not a good idea. You’re real comfortable.”  
“Thank you.”  
“In a skinny sorta way.”  
“Skinny?” came the mock-outraged exclamation.  
“Well... you keep loosin’ weight now’n  then.”  
“I do not!”  
“Only when you worry.”  
Malcolm harrumphed. “With you, I constantly worry.”  
“Ah, but I worry more.”  
“About me?”  
“No, stupid, about the capt’n’s dog.”  
“Porthos is well able to take care of himself. He spent less time in sickbay than a certain chief engineer.”  
Trip pouted. “Or a certain armory officer,” he muttered.  
“I do believe you by now surpassed me.”  
“No way.”  
“Way.”  
“You wanna ask Phlox for a count?” Trip challenged.  
“Might be an idea.”  
“I’d win hands down!”  
Malcolm smiled. “Yes. Because you’ve been there more often than me.”  
“Sheesh!” Trip exclaimed, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling. “Listen to us. Next thing we know we play ‘mine’s worse than yours’!”  
Malcolm tilted his head a fraction, gray eyes dancing. “They are.”  
Trip leaned forward and caught his lover’s lips, silencing him effectively, ignoring the twinges in his lips.  
“Forget sickbay. Forget Phlox. Forget the popcorn,” he murmered when they parted. “I think I’d rather have a bite of you, Mal.”  
“I thought we had agreed upon letting you heal.”  
“We have.” Trip nibbled a way down the strong jaw and then snuggled into the warm embrace.  
Malcolm smiled and planted a loving kiss onto the dark blond strands.  
“Got all of you. Much better than a bite.”  
Malcolm chuckled and they watched the rest of the movie in silence.  
Without popcorn.


End file.
